


Christmas is for Family

by Jenna Hilary Sinclair (JennaHilary)



Series: Force of Nature [4]
Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: Christmas, Force of Nature, M/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaHilary/pseuds/Jenna%20Hilary%20Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything I've written about Jack and Ennis is an alternate reality exploration of what might have happened if Jack had not died but had shown up at Pine Creek.</p>
<p>    "Christmas is for Family" is a sequel to my Force of Nature series. I'm currently in the middle of writing Force of Nature, a three novel trilogy that explores what happens to Jack and Ennis once they honestly try to find a way to live together. The first novel, Force of Nature: Earthquake, is complete and on this archive. The second novel, Force of Nature: Storm, is also on the archive, but as of 12/18/13, it lacks a final chapter which I should have complete in mid-January 2014. The third novel, Force of Nature: Fire, will be written in 2014.</p>
<p>    "Christmas is for Family" takes place twenty years after Force of Nature. Jack and Ennis each have married children as well as grandchildren. The story is a tiny slice in time set in 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas is for Family

He sat forward on the easy chair, his hands between his knees, and watched while his only grandson tore the wrapping paper off his Christmas gift. Overall, seemed the youngster was doing okay. Eight years old and already smarter than any kid he’d known, including Malcolm when he was that age, he was sure of it.

Took about three seconds before the ribbon and paper he’d put around the gift was down on the floor -- ten minutes at least had passed while he’d struggled to put the stuff on, since he wasn’t much good at such things -- and Ben held up a couple of Game Boy games like they were trophies. Ennis had got them from Amazon.com at a good price, but nobody needed to know that. After all these years, he was still careful with a dollar. Quarters, too.

“Thanks, Grandpop!”

Ben sure was Jenny’s son. Nothing held back about him at all, and the boy launched himself against Ennis and wrapped his arms about his neck.

“Just what I wanted!”

Ennis let loose one of his smiles, cause that was what he wanted to hear, and he hugged the little fella back.

“Might be your mom told me what to look for. Hope you like playing them.”

“I will! Hey, I’ll show you how they work. You stay here, I’ll be right back.”

The boy charged up the stairs of the fine suburban home that Jenny and her Charlie had bought, so Ennis turned his attention to where his daughter was holding the baby in her lap.

“Her turn,” he said. “Unless you want to wait ‘til tomorrow when you open all the rest of the gifts.”

“No, let’s do it now.”

Jessica was only ten months old, born when Jenny was already past forty, a little one with blonde peach-fuzz looking not like her mom, not like her dad either. She was his granddaughter in her coloring and in her quiet ways, too. He’d heard about how older mothers had all sorts of problems with their kids, though he’d not said a word during the pregnancy, fearing to make it true. Then Jessie was born, hardly any crying, no colic, and a man could take her out of her mother’s arms and hold her for an hour without any fuss being made. A sharp stab of worry had made him frown during that first visit. He knew how hard a special needs kid could be on a family, and despite their kind and loving ways and how Davey had been special to him, he wouldn’t wish that on Jenny.

But there wasn’t anything not-normal about Jessie; she was just quiet. He understood about keeping to quiet ways. Now she sat sucking her thumb, all fancied up in a little pink dress because, Jenny had said, it wasn’t every day that her grandpop was there to see her. That was so. She wasn’t giving attention to the package Jenny was holding on her knee or to her daddy sitting next to Jenny on the sofa. Instead she was staring at Ennis like she couldn’t get enough of him. Big blue eyes, staying blue as she grew, the one mark of Charlie he could see.

Ennis held out his arms, strong after years of hard work, but he’d been schooled in being gentle too. “Here,” he said. “I’ll take her. You open that up for her, okay?”

The little one came to him easily, and he held her sitting up against him, one arm wrapped around her to keep her safe. Her tiny warmth was like another spark for his heart, already lit up bright like the sun. There was nothing like a grandchild. Nothing like the family he had.

Jenny was looking at him plenty fond, with one of those Jenny-smiles that had filled the whole stage back when she was acting and singing. That made the long drive here worth it, that one look.

“You’re so good with kids, Daddy. You should’ve had ten of them.”

He shook his head. “By the time I could afford them, there was no chance of that happening. Go on, show Jessie what I got her.”

He looked down at the top of his baby girl’s head while Jenny did her thing, and he remembered when it’d been Jenny, usually crying, sitting on his lap. How could time have passed so quick?

It’d taken a trip to Santa Fe to find the right baby doll for this little one, for sure his last grandchild and dear to him, cause the stores near home was only showing Barbie and cheap plastic. But he was satisfied with what they’d found at a little girl specialty store a few blocks from the square. By the look on Jenny’s face, it was okay. That was good, since getting the right gift for the important people in his life -- the people he loved -- was a hard thing even now that he had some money to spend. He’d taken considerable time thinking on gifts this year.

Jenny got up and kissed him on the cheek. “Daddy, this is too beautiful. Thanks so much. She’s going to love this doll.”

“You let her play with it, you hear? Let her drag it on the floor if she wants, don’t put it up on a shelf.”

“I will,” Jenny promised.

He held on to Jessie the next half hour while they talked. Outside, Oklahoma City had a scattering of snow on the ground this Christmas Eve morning, global warming be damned, but the roads had been clear during the whole nine hours of driving that he’d spent getting there, three days before. Thanksgiving this year had been spent with Junior; she’d had a whole houseful when his truck had pulled up in her driveway, but they were always welcome. It was fine at her place, cause he knew everybody there and they knew him and his circumstances. Christmas was harder to arrange but still it was okay, these days before the holiday with Jenny and Charlie, just them and him and their children. Never once over the years had Charlie said a cross-wise word about his wife’s daddy. He had a firm handshake and looked Ennis in the eye. Ennis knew he was a good man.

They drank eggnog cause that was something the folks in this house liked to do, and he was polite about it. Ben showed him how one of the games worked and though his thumbs weren’t near as fast as the boy’s, he got it to go, too, his glasses perched on his nose. Then all five of them bundled up against the cold, the baby wrapped in blankets, and they took a walk down to some little lake near the house to feed the ducks. Ennis squatted down by the shoreline and pointed out all the different kinds to Ben, and then he told the boy he’d take him dove hunting once he was ten and his folks said he could handle a gun.

“Promise, Grandpop?”

“You bet. You’ll come out to my place for a whole week that time, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“I’m old enough now!”

He reached out and rubbed Ben’s black hair. “Not until your folks say the word. It’ll wait. I ain’t going nowhere.”

He could see from the way Ben looked at him, doubtful, that the kid was wondering if his grandpop would even be alive by then. Sixty-two, age spots already on his hands, his hair shot through with gray, he probably looked to the boy like he was close to death’s door. But he had years left in him. He was gonna take them, too, cause there were those other years he hadn’t lived hardly at all, and he figured he was owed.

“Your beard has some blond to it,” Jenny said when they were back at the house eating fruitcake and drinking coffee after lunch. “I thought it would come out all gray.”

That was just like Jenny, to be as blunt as the filly back in one of his barns who couldn’t understand why a halter had to be on her head, and she let Ennis know about it, too.

“You’re not going to shave it off?” Jenny asked.

He rubbed his hand over his chin, feeling the softness against his callused fingers. The beard was months old now, started July tenth. It’d come out good, to his surprise, since he’d never grown one before, and he kept it trimmed so he didn’t look like some wild man. “You think I should?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she said with the same twinkle in her eye that she’d had when she was twelve years old.

“True enough. So far it stays.”

There was a Christmas Eve church service at four o’clock that afternoon. Charlie asked him to go with the family, but he had to be on the road by two, so he said no thanks. He’d never had much use for churches since his Alma-time, anyway. If there was a God, then he spoke to Ennis in other ways, and in the years past it seemed they’d had a few conversations. Once in a while he stopped, looked around at his life, and reflected that there’d been some breath of God blowing on him, for sure.

When it was time for him to leave, Charlie walked out with him to where his Ford F-250 truck, extended cab, all gussied up with extras he didn’t really need, was parked in the driveway. He got in and put on his seatbelt, finally convinced it was something he should do, cause it wasn’t him who would be stuck worrying over his sorry ass in a hospital if he was in an accident, was it? He waved at the kids and at Jenny, who were watching from their big picture window, and he drove away into the cold December afternoon. That’d been a real good visit, and he was glad he’d made the effort.

It wasn’t the time of year for tornadoes, but the wind blew hard as he found his way straight west on Interstate 40 across the flat plains of Oklahoma and then Texas. The clouds hung heavy enough to weigh down any man’s spirit, but he rolled down the window and stuck out his elbow even going seventy. He whistled now and then. When he got tired of that, he turned on the radio to good music. Though after a while that reminded him and he got a mite nervous, so he went back to whistling.

Eventually Amarillo reared up from the prairie. It didn’t look much like the city he’d lived in all those years ago, and he regarded it each time he drove through with a mix of gritted teeth and a jump in his chest. He was sure he could find the house on Prospect Drive with his eyes closed. Sometimes he reminded himself of that when he was fucking mad about something, that he had no direction except starting out from that townhouse.

But that wasn’t where he was headed as the dark gathered on this Christmas Eve. It was five-thirty, earlier than he’d thought he’d make it this far, but still now was the time for the break he’d planned. He knew a good place where a Corona would go down smooth.

He found a parking spot right across the street, and when he pushed the door open to jukebox music, J.T.’s wasn’t crowded at all. Maybe he was lucky it was even open this night; he hadn’t considered that and maybe should have. There was nobody he knew when he scanned the men scattered here and there -- a few at the bar, a couple in a booth mooning at each other -- so he took himself over to where the pool tables were waiting for him to show them he knew what he was doing.

The game got him concentrating on the stick in his hand, the click of the balls, the chalk dust against his fingers, and that was good. He didn’t want to be looking up every time the door opened, blowing in some city boy pretending to be a cowboy just cause he wore a hat and boots. The only woman in the place -- sitting in a corner with flint eyes and short gray hair, older than him by at least ten years and seeming a little sour -- she was writing on a napkin. But after fifteen minutes and one long appraising stare she got up and left, and he felt better about that. She didn’t belong there and he didn’t need any woman observing the next little while. The door closed behind her and it was just the normal guys left. He figured at least they’d understand.

The big Timex on his wrist said five-fifty, ten minutes to go, when he racked up for the next game and bent over for the break.

“You come here often?” a voice came to him from over his shoulder.

He smiled down at the felt and shot. The eleven ball dropped in the side pocket even though his heart had got to pumping pretty fast.

Ennis straightened, turned around, and put a frown on his face. Maybe other men might have done more, but it was hard for him to show his feelings in public, even in a place like this, and he knew Jack didn’t expect it. “What’s it to you, old man?”

“You can call yourself an old man, but don’t call me that,” said the best-looking fella within these walls when they’d first come to J.T.’s fifteen years ago. He still had no competition in Ennis’s eyes. “I’m only middle-aged.”

“You always were a dreamer.” Ennis nodded over to the table. “You wanna play?”

Jack stripped off his coat and hung it on the hook over Ennis’s brown leather jacket. “I’m gonna beat your ass.” He picked up the full bottle of Coors Lite that was sitting next to the half-drained Corona and took a swallow.

Ennis snorted. “Like hell. You know I’m -- ”

“I know, you’re good with a cue stick. Among other things.”

The table was half clear of balls before Ennis asked, “How’s Malcolm?”

“Growing like a weed. He’s six foot already. Takes after me with his basketball playing, which is fortunate as I can think of some folks who can’t shoot worth a damn. How’s Ben?”

“Chattering up a storm, takes after Jenny and you. He’s getting impatient for the gun handling lesson, but Jenny won’t budge on that yet.”

“We going to get him for spring break?”

“Got it all arranged, though it’ll just be for four days. Bobby doing okay?”

“Yep. There’s a brand new Lexus in front of his house.”

“Not with one of those big red bows?”

“Nope, he got it last month. But I’d say commercial real estate in Abilene must be booming.”

Ennis won the game, like he usually did. He sometimes wondered how Jack could play pool congenially when he most often was on the losing side, but then again Ennis wasn’t much good at rummy, either, and there was a well-used deck of cards in their kitchen.

Over by the bar, the couple who’d been making eyes at each other in the booth was on the dance floor now, marking up the wood with some fancy footwork. The music was too fast, though; Ennis hadn’t danced in more than thirty years, and there was no way he could keep up with those younger folks. Ennis tried to make it not too obvious that he observed as Jack leaned on his cue stick and watched another two guys join in. Jack was a good dancer and really seemed to enjoy it; Ennis had seen him with Courtney, Bobby’s wife, at Jenny’s wedding and then a time or two after. Pondering Christmas a few weeks ago, he’d remembered that.

Jack’s eyes seemed to wander around the place, taking it all in. “To think J.T.’s was here all the time and I never knew it.”

Ennis grunted, placed the cue ball, and broke, but nothing dropped in a pocket this time. “Good thing for me you didn’t. I would’ve never had a chance with you. Every guy in the place would’ve been all over you.”

That was one of the things he liked about Jack, his laugh. “You implying it’s different now, that I’ve lost my charms, boy?”

“I’m saying it’s a good thing you thought you were an island back then. Nowadays we’re a dime a dozen. Queer bars all over the place.”

“Gay bars. And you’d better not tell that to James Dobson.”

“I guess I’ll pass. We’ve got time for another game, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. A five hour drive ahead for each of us in the dark. Maybe we’d better eat quick at Denny’s now.”

“Dumbass,” Ennis growled against what Jack called humor. “Come on, one more.” He was waiting for the right moment….

It finally came as Jack sank the nine ball with only the eight ball left in his sights. It might have been that Ennis hadn’t been paying full attention to the game, listening and determining that he was gonna do this no matter what, even if the right song didn’t show….

But the right song did show. He didn’t know what it was called or who was singing it, but the music was slow enough and seemed to have the right tone for what he was going for. He felt like heaving a sigh of relief. Instead he snapped his cue stick back in the rack, took Jack’s from him and did the same.

“Hey, what’re you doing? I’m about to win the -- ”

“Shut up, Jack. You’re going dancing.”

“Dancing?”

Ennis grabbed his hand. “Yeah, with me.”

He took care to watch Jack’s face, cause that was what he was getting from the giving.  
He wanted to remember this moment. The littlest foal in their barns could’ve knocked Jack over with a newborn headbutt, he was so shocked. Eyes wide, mouth falling open.

“What? You don’t dance.”

“Yeah, well, tonight I do. Come on.”

He tugged Jack over to the tiny dance floor, where the other two couples were wrapped around each other and pressed close. No way he could do it the same, though maybe it’d be simpler, dancing-wise….

He turned to face his fella and held out his arms in the old-fashioned way he’d danced a few times with Alma, making no mistake about who would be leading. Jack took a moment to give him a look that he’d seen once or twice before: you old goat, you’ve surprised me again. And under that: you’re doing this for me? For me? Seemed maybe he was a little choked.

Jack came into his arms and filled them up.

It took a couple steps to get the rhythm right, cause after all they’d not done this together before. Ennis looked down at his feet and concentrated, but soon they were circling around not much different -- though more dignified -- than the other guys.

“Ennis.”

Ennis looked up quick then and got stuck on the light shining in Jack’s eyes. His feet seemed to go on by themselves. Guess him and Jack, they had something natural going on between them.

“Yeah?” he said, almost a whisper, snagged by baby blues.

Jack smiled at him. “Nothing.”

The years had been kind to his man, that was for sure. Nobody else Ennis wanted to be with, no other person he wanted to look on morning, noon, and night. Five years ago Jack had finally shaved off his moustache, losing about a pound of weight, Ennis had kidded him, and after years of struggling with his hair and Grecian Formula for Men, he’d given up and let himself go salt-and-pepper gray. He’d packed on a few more pounds, but not too much, so if they wanted to dance belt buckle to belt buckle, they could’ve done that with no problem and felt all the right things.

None of that mattered to Ennis.

About halfway through the song, he remembered what else he’d planned. He said, “See here, let’s do this,” and he brought one arm down, one arm up, and Jack copied him like they’d rehearsed it. Jack was leading now.

“You old softie,” Jack said low.

“Hey, now,” Ennis responded with no heat.

He’d imagined maybe he’d be awful self-conscious, that maybe he’d make a mess of the dancing, and had even considered that maybe Jack wouldn’t want to go along. But this was okay. They were okay.

He let himself get a little nearer. “Twenty-two years,” he breathed in Jack’s ear.

And, like he always did, Jack disagreed. “Forty-three years,” he breathed right back, counting from the time he’d took the shirts.

Jack brushed his cheek against Ennis’s beard and made a little sound, appreciating, maybe yearning a bit. Over his shoulder Ennis saw their beer bottles sitting side by side, on guard over their interrupted game that Jack was gonna win. Ennis had a flash of their own pool table at home, where once or twice they’d stopped playing and done something else there.

But Jack sure did like his beard. Ennis let him nuzzle, then let himself flow with what his body and heart were telling him. He tightened his arms and brought them a whole lot closer to each other. He let the rhythm of the music go through him, and he danced with his man.

Closed his eyes. Wanted to stop the progress of time right there.

But too soon the music was fading, and he regretted that it was. Jack pulled back and he figured it was over, what he’d been planning for weeks, once he’d realized he was gonna be at Jenny’s the same time Jack would head for Bobby’s, and they could meet each other in Amarillo before the final leg of the trip home. Cause tomorrow was Christmas, and Christmas was for family.

But Jack wasn’t letting him go. They stood there in the middle of the dance floor, hands around each other’s waists while another song started and the other guys kept dancing.

“You going to kiss me?” Jack asked.

“That’s not part of this present, nope.”

“Then it’s part of mine. Thank you, Ennis.”

Jack kept it simple but it lasted a long time, like they’d lasted a long time, just like the mountains that had sheltered them in the beginning. Some things would stand forever. Jack’s lips against his, the warmth of his body so close, the music inside them the same tune.

Jack pulled away from him slowly, but Ennis reached up and took his man’s face in his hands in their old, old way. He brought their foreheads together and looked straight into Jack’s eyes.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

*****


End file.
